And in the ponderous time
it seems to take
to do the simple tasks,
may we gain experience
in presence, and in gratitude,
in noticing, in overcoming
And how we find our rhythm
with all the things that don’t need clocks,
that arc along the day
according to their own grace,
the kiss of rain or sun
enough to crown their deeds.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 10, 2018
Life has its own plans,
so they say,
squirrel in the hawthorn
bobbing the ends of branches
as the dark day prepares
to roll toward darker
and the old man,
not amenable to our schedule,
still sits at the table with his tea,
not drinking much,
though the clock ticks
and the hands circle round
I may turn frequently
in my seat,
looking for the next thing,
but life is right here
working out its own design.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 12, 2017
Your demands upon my time
are not exacted through command
or through complaint, but simply
by your presence — you’re awake
and need protecting from a fall,
you’re asleep, and need changing
These simple things I do —
your meals, your cleaning,
and my bad piano playing
to make you feel at home,
though I didn’t feel that way at first,
I find they are no problem
They have, in fact, a certain lift,
when I see you contented,
when I feel you at peace.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 23, 2017
We first relax
and then begin
to take our tentacles out
of your father’s life
We called them love
but they were something else.
We felt our love required them
but (on further thought)
our meddling does not improve his life
We take out the tentacles
so he can die if he wants,
and if what he wants to do
is ride the currents
of his own volition
wherever they may take him, well
This is what we also had to do
to free our children. So now
you’re treating him like an adult,
my daughter said. Letting him decide
what he wants to do
Oh yes. To learn again:
Love is not exerting
what we think is best for them —
love holds on
while also letting go.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 12, 2017
After a while
we started to think we wanted
that one bright slice of day
we couldn’t have
We began to tire
of building our time around it
though it was quite reasonable —
Who, after all, is free
of all obligations?
And even if we were free,
the same discontent
that dogs us now
would nibble around our edges
in some other way
and try to take
this same kind of chomp
out of our satisfaction.
So no. Regroup and reconsider.
The victory, the release,
will not be from demanded time,
but from the sense of deprivation.
We can always have enough.
We are always given
just what we need.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 10, 2017
Midnight threatens
to overcome the day —
I can keep working
up to its threshold
but it will be tomorrow then
and what I accomplish
will no longer add to
today’s to dos’ ta-dahs
No matter. My life cares little
about calendars these days.
I have to think hard sometimes
about what day it is.
Just me and the rhythms
of someone who’s left time behind
and the progress that scribbles
bright and rushing
outside all the lines.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 4, 2017
When the sky clears,
it’s bliss to be ready
to jump on that wind
and journey
northward with the flat-bottomed clouds
while wind chimes sing,
it’s enlivening to feel the cold
and be free to go
There’s a wistfulness to knowing
I will go inside and wait
for my time window to open,
which may or may not coincide
with the day’s hour of sun.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 22, 2017
Whatever happened to us? you said —
sorrow and distance
but sweet close holding
The rain that has driven the day
masked the breath of spring
which was coming in anyway
though we didn’t know
And later the same strong wind
blew white clouds through blue sky
and your hand was warm
walking to the library
The old man walks out of the bathroom
carrying the rug. I don’t need this, he says,
I have my own pants.
The day has had some rough parts
but I will put him to bed.
We’ll have another go
in the morning.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 29, 2017
Freedom in small pockets
like sky in puddles
still feels expansive
The possibility
of an evening free of caregiving
feels buoyant,
even if our only outing
is to the grocery store
It’s hard to fathom
being fully untethered,
and useful to remember
what happens to kites
when their strings are released
Reminding us to build a solid anchor
that can lend lift to our flight,
reminding us to base our liberty
not on our circumstances
but on our love.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 27, 2017
I want to go home, he says.
This is home, I say,
and then I pause, and ask,
what would make it feel like home
to you?
It takes a few times of asking,
then he says, it doesn’t matter —
anywhere there are two or more persons
to receive you.
Well, that’s all right, I say,
because we are here. There are three of us.
This is your home.
I feel a little uneasy,
because I have used a bit of force
in an issue of hygiene.
Perhaps it felt hostile.
I do my best, now,
to fill this living space
with the glow of home,
to be one who receives him
as well as one who puts him to bed.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 14, 2017